


A Tangled Web

by VeronicaRich



Series: Death-Proof [3]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Implied Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 03:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaRich/pseuds/VeronicaRich
Summary: When first a tangled web we weave ...





	A Tangled Web

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of a 7-story series; first posted in 2007.

"Elizabeth, for the love of ducks, we're just taking him fishing." Bill Turner heard the controlled exasperation in his son's voice, even this far astern.

"That's deep water, Will! He's all of seven, he could drown-"

Bill glanced back over his shoulder with the same amusement he heard in the subdued tittering of a few of the _Dutchman's_ nearby crewmen, just in time to catch Will's eyes expand to the size of the ship's wheel and see him perform an impromptu little arm-waving that put Bill vaguely in mind of Jack Sparrow trying to find words. "You don't think being the guardian of oceanic death carries a few personal advantages in such a situation?" he finally managed to sputter.

Before his wife could answer, Bill turned back to Liam, who was watching his parents with undisguised interest. They'd been quarreling all morning, their moods much changed from yesterday, and Bill figured he could probably guess why - Will was too honest for his own peace. "Here, boy," Bill nudged verbally, as he put a large hand on Liam's shoulder and guided him around to face the rowboat suspended off the side of the ship. "Let's get this rope loosened."

The boy watched as Bill showed him the trick of working free a soaked knot. "But we might not even be going," Liam pointed out. "Mum's not too keen on it."

"Aye, but your da is, and he's an opinion in the matter," Bill gruffly responded. "It ain't any of your concern, and this is. You been paying attention?" Liam gave two curt nods of his small head, a gesture reminisicent of a very young Will. "What'd I just do, there?" He felt guilty as the lad cocked his head, trying to figure it out, since he'd taken advantage of his supernatural strength to make considerably shorter work than the loosening process normally required - but not enough to admit to it. It was, after all, keeping the boy's attention from the voices of his parents' "discussion" in the background.

Liam, however, was not a boy to whom small acts of revenge were alien. "Why's there a rowboat on the _Dutchman_?"

"Come again?" As soon as he asked, he replayed the words in his head and understood the question. "Why ... so's survivors can row to shore safely, if they're not bad off enough to be ferried on."

"But why can't one of you just take them there like Daddy brings us here?" He was referring to the crew's and captain's ability to simply apparate from and into wood structures, and the temporary ability for their "cargo" to do the same.

"Might be people on shore," Bill explained, looking down at his grandson. "Be mighty hard to explain who we are and where we come from."

"But you could show up behind a tree or a building or something." Liam peered up at him, squinting into the early-afternoon sun behind Bill's head. "And just come back here after they leave."

"We're not to interfere with folks like that." Bill shook his head. "Captain's orders. He doesn't want us givin' a scare to regular mortals, or makin' them ask too many questions."

"But you row people to shore, right?"

Bill sighed. He'd forgotten all the damn questions that seemed to follow small children like puppies. "No, we don't. If they're fit enough to leave the ship, they're fit to row once we're in range of land."

While Liam pondered that, Bill figured he'd answered about all he could. _Come on, boy_ he thought at his son. He was interrupted yet again. "Then how do you get the boat back?"

"Huh?" The lad had been quiet long enough that it startled Bill. "What? Why - one of us goes and gets it after they've gone on land. Or we don't, and get another one somewhere else."

"From where? You can't just sail into port and buy a boat," Liam pronounced with youthful insoucience.

_William, what the hell are you_ doing _with that great bloody wife of yours, anyway?_ He could still hear their voices, much subdued, but kept his eyes on Liam. "Watch your tone," he warned, arching an eyebrow at the kid. "No, we can't just sail in and buy a boat. We take them as salvage from wrecks we come 'cross."

The boy's eyes widened. "You steal from dead ships?"

Bill counted to ten silently, resisting the urge to explain just what the people did that his mother was king OF. "It's not stealing," he patiently explained. "It's payment for services rendered. You ever heard of putting coins in the eyes of a dead man?" The kid shook his head. "Well, it's like this: When you die, you've got to be collected and taken across the Divide for heaven or hell. But that man can't work free, so he's got to have payment of some sort. Up on land, it's a couple of shillings, since that's payment for what's on land, right? Think if you buy some sweets, and have nothing else to trade. But at sea, Captain Turner's no use for coins, so you pay 'im in what's valuable to him - a rowboat, or some supplies for his crew, perhaps some cannonshot."

"Or fishing poles."

The unexpected voice made them both turn to find Will standing there, arms crossed, obviously listening in. "Aye, and fishing line," Bill nodded.

"Where do you get that?" Liam wanted to know.

The corner of Will's mouth twitched. "Human hair," he answered evenly, leaning down a bit into his son's space. "From my BACK."

Liam's eyes went wide again, and Bill chuckled at the odd answer as Will straightened. "Is it ready?" Will asked him.

"Ready as she's likely to get without warm bodies inside," Bill replied. "How long will ye be gone?"

"You'll see; you're coming along."

It was a surprise, but not unpleasant. Bill knew better than to argue, and didn't mind, anyhow. "Aye. Maccus in charge, then?"

Will scratched at his chin, pulling himself up to climb into the small boat, then reaching for the line to lower it to the water, where Bill and Liam would climb - or perhaps apparate - down. He didn't quite meet Bill's eye as he answered, "There's another captain aboard."

It took Bill a moment to process it; apparently it took exactly the same time for Liam, as they both piped up at once. "ELIZABETH?" "MUM?"

"It's not like anyone's going to be diving under while she's at the helm," Will pointed out, the otherworldly strength in his arms the only thing that kept the boat poised steadily as he began to lower it, hand over hand on the thick rope. "And we'll not be gone that long."

Bill grinned, and couldn't resist a needle. "Was the only way she'd let either of you off this tub, was it?" His only answer was a noncommittal grunt as Will conveniently quickened his pace and lowered himself just out of eye contact.

*****

The sea, normally choppy and rocking, was nearly still as glass as they sat silently. Will switched off with Liam on sharing a pole, letting the boy have it nearly the whole time, while Bill had his own and simply watched the tutoring.

Presently, Liam broke the silence in Bill's direction. "You're his father, aren't you?" He swiveled to look at Will on his other side, then back at Bill.

"Aye." Bill nodded.

The boy thought a moment more. "So you used to do this with Daddy when he was ... a boy?" It was clear from the lad's tone he couldn't believe William had ever been as short and willowy as he was.

Bill flicked his eyes to Will, who'd turned his eyes out to sea, expression neutral, electing to say nothing. Their relationship wasn't strained, largely because they didn't often discuss the past except in factual passing when it was required. "Occasionally," Bill answered, knowing his fib wouldn't be contradicted. Liam would have to know the truth someday, he supposed, when they were both better equipped to explain and he could possibly begin to understand without drawing comparisons between Bill's and his own father's absences; it wasn't a comparison Will deserved, he thought. "Actually, there's once I do recall quite vividly."

"There is?" This from Will, sounding surprised.

Bill nodded. It wasn't a lie or a story. "You were little, maybe four or so, maybe too little to remember. I took you out on a little rowboat a lot like this, on the lake in the park, and we spent the afternoon fishing."

Will concentrated, furrowing his brow. "I don't ... remember, no," he shook his head. "Wait - yes, I remember a boat. But not in the lake. I think remember swimming, in that lake. We both got our clothes wet, and Mum carped at us, I know that. You sure it wasn't swimming, instead?"

Nodding, Bill answered, "I'm certain. We took out a rowboat, were fine for a couple of hours, even caught a few. Then, the damnedest thing-" He cut his eyes at Liam and cleared his throat. "The oddest thing, you got your hook on what must've been a tree root not far from shore. We yanked so hard trying to catch your 'fish' that the boat capsized." He shrugged, with a smile. "So in a sense, yeah, I guess we did go swimming that day."

Will looked thoughtful, nodding slightly. "That might be it. I don't remember a boat, though. Just remember we walked to shore." He looked at Bill dubiously. "You sure that's the only time we were out on a boat? I remember something about ... sprays of water in my face, and you picking me up and handing me to Mum."

Carefully giving the matter thought, Bill shook his head, blankly. "Nay," he lied. "Wasn't with me." Will had enough of a complex about his prior luck with ships - better he didn't think that even at the tender age of nearly two, his mere presence in the arms of his parents on a Saturday pleasure schooner had brought on the sudden squall that had pitched them all into the sea. Fortunately, it had been close enough to land that everyone had been able to swim to shore. The schooner, however - like the rowboat, mysteriously - hadn't made it back to dry land.

"Wonder if Mum's having fun?" Liam asked, a glad interruption for Bill.

He turned to look behind, spotting the great ship less than a knot away. He was fairly sure Elizabeth's desire to finally be rid of her son and husband for a while had nothing to do with a desire to captain the Ship of Death, since _Dutchman_ wouldn't respond to her commands if he decided otherwise. He tended to trail after his master like a protective mastiff, the few times Bill had ever witnessed either Davy Jones or Will getting out of visual range of the ship, though to his credit he seemed less eager to lose track of Will. _Can't say the same for the missus right now_ , Bill thought ruefully and - abashedly - with some amusement.

When Bill turned back around, he caught Will giving him an odd look, as though he could divine what his father was thinking. Bill carefully cleared his face, but Will narrowed his eyes, a sure sign he'd guessed something close to the guilty truth. Bill only shrugged, and it was Will's turn to look guilty, quite suddenly.

Liam's pole quivered, and the boy left off looking between his elders to tighten his grip on the middle. "I have a fish!" he announced, quite unnecessarily, excitement in his voice. "Or maybe a tree!"

Laughing, Will shifted, leaning forward to help. Before any of them could see the shape in the distance, a familiar report of cannon broke the peace of the atmosphere.

Liam dropped his pole, which was saved only by Will's quick hand, and frowned up at Bill. "Are we being shot at?" he asked, his young voice high with fear as Will paused stiffly. Bill watched Will's expression jump briefly, then clear to mild panic, all in the space before Liam looked up at him as he straightened. "Da-"

"I'll help ye, boy." Bill moved forward, shoving his fishing pole at Will, and sat near Liam. "Steady, now, on pulling her in ..." He wanted to be sure, and glanced at Will, now taut as a piano wire, before shaking his head at Liam. "No attacker, this, lad. Tis only a friend," he explained, none too sure right now. " _Dutchman's_ sister ship, the _Black Pearl_."

"Oh!" Liam grinned. "Captain Sparrow! He's been to the Cove!" With all the pride a young boy who knows very few adults independent of blood relatives could muster, he informed his grandfather, "I know him."

"Yes," Bill nodded, glancing Will's way. "Your father knows him, too." The comment's import mercifully sailed over the tyke's head, but Will gave his father a hard, frosty look.

"Is he shooting at Daddy's ship? He knows he can't sink it, right?"

Bill stifled a laugh. "No, son, that's just Jack. It's the way he says hello, all because he knows he can't sink him." He helped Liam get a better hold on the pole. "Now let's get that fish off the-"

They were interrupted yet again, by an even more familiar report of gunfire, a quickly successive triple blast. "Oh, shite," Bill muttered, grabbing for Will's wrist as the man nearly stood, rocking the rowboat. He yanked his son back to his seat, and Will shook his head as if clearing it, frowning at himself as he noticed the rocking. With an abrupt wave of his hand, the rocking stopped, and Will stood again - this time, the little boat didn't move.

"We need to get back."

_Before the missus can reload, yes_ , Bill silently agreed. "Go on," he nodded at his son. "I'll row the boy back."

"I can't leave him here." Will shook his head. "You don't exercise the same protection I do."

"Do you really want to take your son on board a ship as being fired at?" Bill pointed out. "You never fire back at _Pearl_ ; he's not likely to know, without you going and telling him yourself, there's nothin' to shoot back at except a cross wife." He pointed an imperious finger at Will. "Get goin'. Snatch him aboard the _Dutchman_ and have your tete-a-tete, the three of ye. Get those cannons shut up and get somewhere so I don't have to row leisurely 'round the way for the next four hours, aye?"

Will set his jaw and nodded. "Aye. I'll let you know the all-clear."

"Son." Bill closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "This ain't likely to be 'all clear' before we can get back aboard. Best you can do is confine it, is all. Or take it back to his ship for a spell."

Sighing, Will concentrated, and was gone in a small shower of dust. Liam blinked. Without looking at his grandfather, his interest in whatever his catch had been gone, he asked, "Is something wrong, Bill?"

"Yes," he answered straightforwardly.

"Did Jack do something wrong? Why's Mum firing at him?"

Bill blew out a sigh, recalling the first time Jack had ended up on board, sans _Pearl_ on his way to the new world ... and the way his former captain had eventually turned those dark eyes on Bill's current captain more times than he cared to try to explain to anyone's wife. "Let's just say he overpaid the ferryman for _not_ taking him 'cross," he finally answered, snapping his fingers and turning his grandson's attention back to his still-quivering fishing pole. "Now about that tree ye might've snagged ..."


End file.
